


There Is Light After Sadness, There's Hope After Madness

by Hypothetical_Warped_Spacetime



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 18:28:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14774895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hypothetical_Warped_Spacetime/pseuds/Hypothetical_Warped_Spacetime
Summary: Post-Chinatown: Lucy and Flynn comforting / taking care of each other.-Lucy chanced a glance over to Flynn at her right. His injured arm clutched close to his chest.Quickly turning her head into the tree-line opposite them when his focus tilted and shifted over to hers. She felt heat color her cheeks that couldn’t all be blamed from their walking.She could still feel Flynn’s embrace. Feel the way his heart hammered deep in his chest as it pressed to her own, how easily they fused together, how right it felt to be held inside the safety of his arms.





	There Is Light After Sadness, There's Hope After Madness

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting fanfic in 6 years... and I edited it after drinking at a bbq- so all grammar errors are definitely mine. 
> 
> *runs and hides* 
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
> (You still have to do that right?)
> 
> _Title borrowed from the lyrics of After Dark by Tori Harper_

_'There Is Light After Sadness, There's Hope After Madness'_

* * *

There was wind hissing high above their heads, passing through the dense overhang of the trees. It’s just barely enough to mask the sounds of their shoes crunching against the dried leaves or the occasional snap of a branch under a heavy foot fall.

No one has spoken a single word since they’ve left Chinatown. No one could shake the imagery of Jiya cradling Rufus’ body, or the piercing sound of her screams as they attempted to pull her away. A chorus that repeated like a broken record, _Please, no, we can’t leave him… Wyatt please, Lucy… tell him…_

She wondered how many ways a heart could break in a single day. How much pain it could withstand. How much loss could a body take before it failed to function.

Lucy couldn’t help Jiya, couldn’t spare her the bereavement- could hardly mend herself back together and put on the facade of someone stronger, a spine to aid the others in standing. It wasn’t her, not in this moment.

1888 has stolen so much from all of them.

Rufus being left behind. Her own mother’s cold stiff body was now probably tossed in an alley somewhere behind the photo studio. _Her great-grandfather too._

Her mother’s departing words were still stinging. Knowing that was the last thing she wanted to say to her, that even in her final moments she couldn’t even pretend to be remorseful for what she put Lucy through in these last few months.

_Everything was just… unbearable._

They had no choice but to leave the string of bodies in their wake. Leave them behind carelessly with no proper burial. On nameless streets for someone else to clean like discarded trash. Rufus didn’t deserve that, he deserved so much more-

Rufus deserved to be coming home with them.

“Jiya,” Lucy pleaded, on her knees beside her, reaching forward to touch her shoulder, “the machine isn’t calibrated for five, you know we don’t really have a choice.”

Eventually they got her to move. Surprisingly, it’s Flynn who convinces her that they could change this. That they have to continue pushing toward the future. Whatever future that may be.

_“When this is all over, we might reset everything… one small change could bring him back. Or maybe, maybe we find a way to save him ourselves. Who knows. The point is, we have to keep going.”_

He’d said it so tenderly, with so much conviction that Jiya nodded and pulled away from Rufus.

There was a pang of disdain that rippled through her at the prospect of starting over while retaining all of her memories. How could she ever look at her mother the way she used to ever again?

Lucy receded out of her thoughts when she hears Flynn wheeze and then cough. Her previously blank stare adjusting to the back of Wyatt as he trailed closely behind Jiya; she was sniffling, wiping at her nose with her palm. Refusing to acknowledge any of them.

Lucy chanced a glance over to Flynn at her right. His injured arm clutched close to his chest.

Quickly turning her head into the tree-line opposite them when his focus tilted and shifted over to hers. She felt heat color her cheeks that couldn’t all be blamed from their walking.

She could still feel Flynn’s embrace. Feel the way his heart hammered deep in his chest as it pressed to her own, how easily they fused together, how right it felt to be held inside the safety of his arms.

The light pressure of his head against hers; his all encompassing scent that as of recently seemed to linger in her memories consistently, ever since that night she spent in his bed.

He rocked her in his arms for countless minutes. Cooed down to her until her cries stopped. Until her sobs and hiccups transitioned into occasional body shivers and residual infrequent whimpers. Her fingers wrapped in the fabric of his jacket unwilling to let go, clutching at his side desperately.

Flynn provided himself to her in whatever capacity she wanted. Never willing to take more than she was willing to give. He offered her solace, offered her something to keep her from falling into a never ending abyss. Became this strong grounding presence that she’d come to rely on.

Despite how loudly she rejected the thought the he knew her. Despite constantly denying the accuracy of the journal. Future her entrusted him with this knowledge for a reason, gave him deeply personal insights into her; she wondered for many nights what that could imply of their relationship, what it all meant in the grander scheme of things. She never trusted her mother with her personal writings, not even Amy was allowed to read her journal entries. So the fact that future Lucy Preston handed him a piece of herself so willingly-

She’d have to be incredibly dense to downplay the significance.

To Flynn’s credit he has put in so much effort in getting to know _her_ \- and they’ve grown so much since that night in the truck. Separating everything that he knew-

Lucy was no longer just the idealization of the journal version of herself.

Whatever future they shared together, whatever it was her _future_ self was trying to retain and preserve…

Lucy was just glad to have him, to anchor her, to understand her in her moments of weakness. To accept her darkness as readily as he accepted her light. Realizing then that only she could grant him that same mutual understanding.

_Why are you here?_ She had asked, but she knew the answer. Flynn was there for _her_ , and only her.

-x-

They could have stayed in the moment for an eternity, of that she was sure. Just attached to each other in the dust and grime of 1888, unmoving.

It was only when she tried to shift more comfortably onto him- when she grabbed a little too high and startled his wound that she realized he was injured. Flynn released the most wounded guttural noise, a mixture of a groan and blood-curdling agony.

Lucy pulled away so abruptly that Flynn was visibly shocked, and more than a little shamed. He lowered his gaze to the floor, his body crumbling in on itself as he hunched over. It was too late, Lucy saw how deep the hurt formed in his irises, how they spoke of his emotional distress as well as his somatic pain.

Assuming it was _him_ holding her that triggered the sudden ill reaction- as if he crossed some sort of unspoken line- and not his own suffering that unnerved her. That perhaps she finally came to her senses enough to recognize she didn’t want to seek any form of physical comfort from someone like himself.

Instead of speaking to reassure him that was _not_ the case; she softly touched him where she could see the discoloring in his suit jacket. Turning her attention to her own dress, to the tiny abstract red specks imprinted onto her.

“Flynn,-” Lucy stammered, gently pulling from the lapel to expose his undershirt and vest.

“I’m okay,” Flynn brushed her fingers with his, taking hold of the edge she held, and pulling the fabric back into place.

Of course it was a lie.

He tries to smile at her, but it comes out more like a grimace than the comforting gesture he tried to impart; and Lucy could see how truly frail Flynn appeared before her, remembers the grunts he made when he lowered himself to her on the floor (however long ago that was) and it wasn’t like that brief glimpse wasn’t enough to see the damage- there was a _lot_ of red saturating the pristine white, and it was directly over his chest.

Lucy could not risk losing anyone else tonight.

Least of all him.

“We need to go.” She felt determination settle into her like a new skin, felt her limp body as it sparked back to life, grief would have to pause for now. Gracelessly Lucy moved across him, “Here, let me.”

“Lift your arm.” She wrapped her fingers around his wrist, reluctantly Flynn listened, lifting his good arm with her aid around her shoulders- his face wrinkling up as his teeth were bared, clenching tightly together. Suppressing any kind of painful noise trying to escape him with a sharp hiss.

With their bodies pressed together at the hips, Lucy slipped her arm around his waist, “Ready?”

He nodded and inhaled sharply through his nose as they both pushed up to their feet. Once they were standing, his eyes fluttered shut for a second. His knees collapsed, body quivering, leaning a lot more heavily on her. It was a lot of weight to support and he had quite a height difference over her. If he passed out, there’s no doubting she’d be falling right along with him.

“Are you going to faint?” She questioned adjusting her hold on him, in case they had to sit back down. Flynn only shook his head negatively and took a step forward.

“I have you Garcia.” Lucy emitted lowly, fear evident in her voice, she could hear it as it faded around them weakly. She rubbed lightly at his ribs, up and down, up and down, “I have you.” she repeated with false confidence. “You have to hold on.”

“That’s the first time you’ve,-” He hesitated, taking another tentative step with her. “That’s the first time you’ve said my name, _my actual name._ ”

_Just don’t let it be the last time…_ She thought to herself, silently praying they could manage their way back to the group.

_Just hold on…_

-x-

There was sweat on his brow now and he was still shaking pretty badly, his skin had long since paled with just the tinge of a sickly grey undertone. He looked like death had its boney fingers around him and with every step the grip tightened, but Garcia Flynn was a fighter and didn’t quit easily.

He was unsteady on his feet, yet he refused to burden anyone with carrying him when he had two perfectly capable legs, stating it would only slow them for no reason.

Lucy still feared that he would pass out from shock or blood loss, so she remained close to him, not that she could stop him from falling- but she could possibly save him from cracking his head open on his descent.

“We have a first aid kit in the Lifeboat now.” Lucy mentions to break the insufferable silence, and to give him something to concentrate on that wasn’t his excruciating situation. Wyatt narrowed his sights on them from over his shoulder, Lucy frowned, and continued to talk to Flynn.

“There should be some form of pain medication in there, it might help dull it enough to get you through the travel.”

“I’m going to be fine. I just want to get the hell out of 1888.” The corner of his mouth turned up, just slightly enough to resemble the trace of a grin at her concern.

“I know you’re going to be fine, that wasn’t what,-” She snapped as she took a step closer to him, wrapping her fingers around the forearm of his non-injured arm, halting him from taking another step.

“You’re hurting,” Lucy chastised, watching as Wyatt’s shoulders grew more rigid, he too paused in his step for half a second, as if he knew they stopped, or to contemplate if he should look back at them again- deciding it wasn’t the best idea, then carrying onward with Jiya.

She turned her attention back up to Flynn. “You don’t have to be…” Lucy ushered a little more restrained, hoping that only he could hear it.

“Please.” she begged.

Flynn swallowed thickly, his mouth opening then closing- he simply nodded.

-x-

When they finally get to the Lifeboat Jiya stalls. “Just, let me stay.” she choked out, tears welling. “I can’t go back without him, I have nothing… I won’t go back,-”

“I promised him I would get you home,” Wyatt said cutting her off sternly. He had a distinct irritation to his tone, one that certainly shouldn’t have been directed toward Jiya. “And, you’re the only one who can pilot us out of here.”

Flynn shot him a glare before he unceremoniously slumped against the cooled metal of the Lifeboat. Sitting on one of the grooves as he released a string of curses in what Lucy assumed was Croatian. She rubbed at her temples and zoned out the hushed bickering between Flynn and Wyatt that began once Jiya climbed inside, and was safely out of earshot.

“Go get the med kit Wyatt.” Lucy demanded when there was a break in their unnecessary and inappropriate argument.

“Lucy, we can treat him when we get home.” Wyatt huffed.

She narrowed her eyes at him, “Go. Now.”

“Fine.” He held up his hands defensively before climbing up the machine. Leaning out of the door just enough to hand it off to her. “Don’t you have, issues, with blood?” he muttered under his breath as he ducked back inside.

She ignored the statement, as well as the unadulterated annoyance and blatant jealousy radiating off him. Instead she propped the bag up on the machine and unzipped it as Flynn began to shrug out of his jacket. His left hand trembling, clumsily prying off the buttons of his vest, then his shirt. Eventually he gets it freed and slips his right shoulder out exposing his chest.

Lucy adverted her stare and busied herself with the supplies.

“Wet some of those gauze with the saline so I can clean off some of this mess. I can’t see anything.” Flynn instructed. Huffing out a laugh as she handed it off without looking.

“I really am not too good with,-” Lucy trailed off as she squeezed her eyes shut, trying hard not to envision all the gore displayed in front of her. Her stomach flipping, head growing light. She tried to distract herself- at first singing a song in her head, and when that failed she began to quiz herself with historical facts.

All of it was done in vain-

She felt herself start to shift backward, a flushing of coldness cascading over her. She grabbed at the Lifeboat to steady herself.

“It’s alright I’ve got it.” Flynn spoke delicately, tossing the soiled gauze atop his discarded jacket. “Go ahead inside, you don’t have to stay.”

Lucy inhaled deeply, held it for a few seconds, then exhaled, repeating it over and over, feeling her lungs as they expanded and deflated with her control. The world spinning less fast with each passing cycle. “I want to stay.” she said when her grip on the present returned.

If Flynn was opposed to the idea he didn’t show it. He nodded and carried on examining his wound, covering it with gauze coated in Vaseline. Lucy wasn’t a doctor, but she was willing to bet that stitches weren’t going to be enough to patch Flynn. He’d need a hospital, he’d most likely need surgery.

_How the hell would they manage that? How the hell was he even still standing right now?_

Wordlessly she continued to follow orders, handing him the things he asked for. Rummaging through the various ointments in search of proper dressings and the pills. “There’s a sling in here.”

“How thoughtful,” Flynn’s tone was dripping with sarcasm, pressing his fingers around the adhesive dressing he placed over his wound, taping down three of the four edges. He cursed again as he struggled with buttoning his shirt. Without much deliberation Lucy moved to stand in front of him. Guiding his hand away, pressing two pills into his palm. Working deftly, she closed the buttons for him.

“Perhaps, you wouldn’t have gotten an infection, if they had a _little_ more forethought before you got stabbed in 1692.”

She smirked at his comment, leaning around him to retrieve the sling, setting the adjustments until it was as loose as possible. He slipped his forearm inside. Then crouched down, ducking into the neck strap as she held it open for him. Flynn gripped it in place as Lucy carefully pulled the belt, tightening until it was secure.

-x-

Wyatt looked nothing short of the petulant child he was behaving as once they joined them inside the Lifeboat. She pushed her dress out of the way, allowing Flynn to get to his seat first. Observing him as he unsuccessfully attempted to pull at his seatbelts with his left hand.

She’d already helped him outside with the buttons on his shirt, what more harm could be done now?

Their legs brushed and it’s a tight space between them, but she glides off the edge of her seat and kneels before him. Leaning across and into him, deeply inside his personal bubble- a blush working its way up from her chest, blossoming in her neck and cheeks.

He immediately stops fiddling, peering at her through hooded eyes as her hand covers his, caressing the back of his knuckles, _let me help,_ goes unspoken.

His breath hitches as her fingertips trail up his arms, then down his chest, fitting the seatbelt over him. It dawns on her that their roles were reversed from the last time they were in this very position. The only exception, Flynn wasn’t balking at her ministrations.

No, instead he seemed to be longing for such care.

She fleetingly allowed herself to wonder when the last time it was that Flynn was comforted or taken care of. Lucy imagines not since his wife died. The notion an invisible knife twisting white-hot affliction into her gut, a sudden ache forming in her chest.

He really was a lonely and broken man, as lonely and broken as herself.

He tilted his head to the side and licked over his bottom lip, an undeniable affectionate twinkle set in his features. “Thank you.”

She clears the lump that formed in her throat, setting back into her seat. “You’re welcome.”

-x-

The Lifeboat hummed into life as Jiya continued flipping the switches and pressing buttons. The door slowly creaking shut. Tears stung at the back of Lucy’s eyes, it all becoming painfully real that they wouldn’t be returning to retrieve Rufus as he originally planned out for them.

She motions to grab her locket from around her neck-only to realize that too was gone… she had absolutely nothing left.

There was no way to stop the sob that tore through her. Could only try to mask it under the noise of the stuttering machinery by covering her mouth in the sleeve of her dress.

_“Tout ira bien, Lucy.”_ Flynn said on an exhale as he settled low in his chair. His eyelids drooping, until they sealed completely. She began to pay attention to his chest, just to make sure that he still actually was breathing. His long arm reached forward, palm upturned and his fingers gesturing in a come here motion.

She leans forward and takes it into hers. He gave it a gentle squeeze, and she felt the tears fall from her silently.

_“Je t'ai.”_

-x-

Lucy knew that moving forward was going to keep on being a devastating uphill battle. That Emma was the worse possible choice for leader of Rittenhouse, a completely unpredictable variable.

Flynn was right though… they did have each other.

They were going to get through this. They were going to keep moving forward.

Because Garcia Flynn hasn’t given up on her, or them. And knowing that he still believed in their future, believed in it so much, that it was worth fighting for…

Dying for…

And that they were going to do all of it together, felt oddly relieving.

_Everything will be alright, Lucy… I have you…_


End file.
